Fast Inter-campus Run with New Writer’s Workshop Character: Angry Online SJW Guy

I was going to run with Swole Bro’, Ramon and the Park Ranger because it was International LGBTQA+MOUSE day.

Actually no one else would run with me. We were joined by the newest member of our Writer’s Workshop the AOSJWG.

“So let’s go run, old shit-covered diaper wearing Botendaddy, what part of ‘we should run’ do you not understand? Why don’t you understand the concept of running? I DOWNVOTE YOU! Here’s the conversation, ME: Let’s run. BOTENDADDY I no understando…ME: Running, like going running, why can’t you understand that? BOTENDADDY: duh… I no comprendo… There, I saved everyone the trouble. I’m Ivy League, I’m all like political. Botendaddy sucks anus. DOWNVOTE! Hie thee hence O’ shitty Botendaddy!”

We were stretching. “I have a stretch for you Botendaddy. It’s a phallic gaping a4nv5 stretch.” Said the Park Ranger.

“Oh yes”, said Ramon, “Botendaddy is Ah the smell of it!”

“I would tear that up!” Said the Swole Bro’.

“OK maybe we should just run.”

We started at full speed. I was well under four minutes for the first half mile. We had to dodge traffic like Frogger or Death Race 2000 or a Russian Car Crash Video #17 ‘St. Petersburg Pedestrians’ I hit the first mile at 8:32 it could have easily been under 8 if I ran harder.

We ran behind the museum (pronounce Muhz-yuhm) and up on to the bridge. We ran into the park

The view from the Park Bridge

“We have to turn around soon. Why do you not understand that? The search for social justice begins  at the halfway point. Why can’t you get that? I mean that’s how it’s set up… DOWNVOTE THE BOTENDADDY !” Said the AOSJWG

Ramon tapped me on the shoulder. “Can we ditch this mierda gringo? He’s an ass of the hole!”

Two mile mark 18:32 not too bad. We then dodged traffic running right up the avenue and right by the Bolean Nationality Classroom. The Bolean teenagers were wearing Pitt Script shirts and drinking interstellar space coffee grown on the planet Holea in 500 below Kelvin temperatures in the Holean Mountain Range at 100,000 feet.

We closed in on the start point Three mile at 28:42 we had a solid shot at 5k under 30 so we sprinted.

“Up at my Ivy League school we sprint at the end all the time. Why don’t you understand that? Why don’t you save a whale?” Said the AOSJWG guy.

We ditched him at the three mile mark.

“We have to get rid of the guy. He sucks!” Said the Swole Bro.

“He’s an imbecile, let’s vote him off the Island.” Said the Park Ranger.

“Let’s go to Botendaddys hot tub!” Said Ramon

It was a 29:50 5k. Not bad. Despite the 77 downvotes.

“Creme Latte?”

Peace be the Botendaddy


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1979 Botendaddy Rocks the Budokan in Front of 1 Billion Shrieking Japanese Fans! ゴジラのような Botendaddy 岩東京!

Dateline Chiyoda Tokyo, Japan March 23, 1979 by Winston Braithwaite Cholmondelay, III

ゴジラのような Botendaddy 岩東京!


Nippon Budokan, 2010 image by Wiii at

“This reporter from the EBC was there. Botendaddy, of Sheffield in the Midlands, playing extreme Bass with the spirit of Jaco, Bootsy, McCartney, Entwhistle  and all the great bass players before him rocked an enormous crowd at the Buddokan in Tokyo. With hard driving, ear-splitting, bristling, sharp-edged, booming  bass tracks, Botendaddy did not disappoint this hungry throng.”

“Opening for Cheep Trikk, Botendaddy and his band started with a Parker/Phillips song made famous by a young Elvis in a previous generation, ‘Mystery Train© Parker/Phillips’ Botendaddy pounding bass tracks on the upright Bass combined with his authentic searing vocals immediately brought the crowd to their feet. Botendaddy’s hair was so long you could weave three Persian rugs. He followed with a haunting duet of June Carter and Johnny Cash’s “If I were a Carpenter.© Johnny Cash” Singing along with Point Pleasant, West Virginia’s own hypnotic brunette, the soulful busty rock vocalist Annabel Lee, they brought the crowd into thoughtful hand-holding swaying, some young couple holding each other close.

Botendaddy then did a few spectacular bass solos starting with a cover of the Who’s 5:15, then a cover of Weather Report’s™ Jaco’s “Third Stone from the Sun“©, then some funk from Sly and the Family Stone with “Thank You.”

The rest of the concert was Botendaddy originals. Botendaddy was followed by East Germany’s favorite punk refugee Rochibauld Sächse-Heûtelier and his signature song: Warum sterben kann nicht ich nur schon?

I went for a 5 mile run with Botendaddy and Rochibauld prior to the concert. Both were excellent runners lean and long-haired like Prefontaine, but less talented, less focused, less athletic and well, simply less.

“Dried Cuttlefish and Sake?”

Peace be the Botendaddy


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Botendaddy Runs with the Aliens

“Whassupp B-word! Yo yo yo it’s me Gryzwaczasdfg in the hizzouse! This my boy Gryzwaczqwerty we gonna be running with you today. You know what I’m saying?”


Flying Saucer Contrails

The two Boleans with blue glowing eyes sort of stood out in the sub-rural office park. We stretched for a while. The Boleans had running gear but no pants. The lack of external genitalia probably made it not obscene. They had little hats like Pharrell and outdated Nike’s. They also had Quapple watches and Quitbits.

We started very fast. Boleans can run a three minute mile when they are slacking. They can actually run a one-minute mile but they are lazy as shit.

“So I have a question for you guys. The anal probe thing, is that real?”

We hit 8:48 for the first mile, then we hit the steep uphill. Cars slammed on the brakes as they passed upon seeing the Boleans.

“The jokes’ on you Earth people! Those are gay Boleans! Those anal probes are actually Bolean gay p3n1535! There is no scientific value at all!”

Chuckled the one with the f@&ked up gibberish name.

19:43 for the second mile. We made APFT run time by five seconds. We aimed for sub 31:00 for the Three mile. The uphill climb was staggering but it was warmish out.


The dog hears the Aliens’ thoughts

“You earth people drive like shit, dog, that E-word almost ran my blue ass over you know what I’m saying Earthy?” Said the one with even more f&$ked up name. He was wearing Queats headphones but he communicated telepathtically. He was listening to Steve Miller’s ‘Space Cowboy’

We hit three miles under 31 then 5k at 32:00 flat. Very good for a hill run.

“Botendaddy, You are a jive-ass racist Earth Melon-farmer, jack… think all we Boleans listen to is hip-hop. You think caus’ We got silver skin We Just be be-bopping all the time? F&$k you, devil! You adult diaper smells like… victory!”

The Boleans chuckled on sticking it To the earth man and they did an elaborate 47 part handshake in celebration as they ran.

Four mile at 43:30 not fast but OK. The fifth mile was downhill, we ended up running a total of 5:03 miles. Now, I was less than a mile off my March pace.

The Boleans checked into MapMyRun.

“Yo’ Earth dude, let’s go to Wings, Suds and Spuds and get my wing on E-Money!” Said the taller one.

“Say, old dude, can I drive your Ford spaceship? I like your rims.”

Asked the shorter one.

“Are you f@&king kidding me? I know you motherf@&kers can’t drive for sh!t.”

Peace be the Botendaddy

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Botendaddy Spotted in Shitty Three Story Walk-up Hotel in Erie, PA


“I was working a case out of Dearborn. Seems some shit-covered dime-rag critic by the name of ‘Botendaddy’ ran afoul of the heat. He’s a friend of Paul Lorton they say, Lorton the voice of a disaffected post-war gritty shell-shocked generation of junkies, pimps, pushers, bums, addicts, hookers, grifters, vagrants, derelicts, winos, ex-cons, white trash, crooks, punks, fairys, dykes, negros, high-yowlers, con-men, card sharks, jazz men, cripples and down and outers, unemployed losers begging for a dime so they can cop a shitty filterless square in some cheap dive. Paul Lorton… writer and killer. I am Sam Cicero, Private Eye.”

I took a long roak off of a cheap filterless square. I was joined by Tomascz, shitty Hungarian gypsy pimp and stool pigeon extraordinaire of the price was right. A shitty character like Tomascz always had an angle.

We stood in the mist under the streetlight.

“Sammwy my boy? How are things?”

Tomascz offered me his bottle of pure Kentucky Pine County Brand Rotgut the shittiest cheapest whisky in America. I took a swig and my throat was burning, I gagged and my eyes started sweating.

“Very smooth whiskey.” I coughed. “What do you know about this Botendaddy Palooka? He’s on the run.”

Tomascz took a swig of the rotgut he started weeping then he doubled over in pain.

“Yes, wery, wery smooth. So  a little bird told me… but I cawnt remewmber…”

I grabbed Tomascz by the lapels and backhanded him across the face.

“Sammwy, let go, your wrinkling da material!”

I handed him a Hamilton.

“Ah now I remember, I saw him at the train station with the Paul Lorton, he took the Pennsylvania Railroad 4:15 to Creefroo”

“What the hell is Creefroo?”

I grabbed his face.

“Say it!”

“Clee-well-land. You just missed him. Bum a square?”

We each lit up a square and smoked in silence under the acrid flickering shit-covered street light outside the empty Tool and Die factory where there hopes and dreams of thousands of workers went South along with the last shred of rusted out shit-covered hope.

Fade to black

Peace be the Botendaddy


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Botendaddy Site Shut Down by the Pa. Department of Agriculture for Prurient Content and General Stupidity


“Suddenly today, a Statement was read by F. Pearson Luzerne, Esq. Chairman of the Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture:

The “Botendaddy” site is hereby shut down and is hereby {CENSORED} by Order of the Court of Quarter Sessions sitting in Dauphin County pursuant to writ of the Pa. Department of Agriculture as authorized by the Anti-Foreign Communist Bolshevik Act of 1946 being PL No 381-5 stroke 7b.

To wit, said ancient Website depicting filthy words, communist sympathy, bowel movement, adult diapers and disgusting sexual activity along with utter falsehood as no-one can believe that any woman would ever get near yon Botendaddy, it is the duty of said department to root out and purify the Commonwealth of such perversion, indecency and bald-faced red communism.

The operation of said site is suspended forthwith pursuant to further orders of this court, in the Year of the Risen Christ, being the 19th Day of March 1947 in this ancient and mysterious free and Accepted Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.







Botendaddy gone! APB and BOLO issued by  Pa State Police and J. Edgar Hoover! Approach with caution! Do not attempt to apprehend without the use of extreme violence! Contact the PASP immediately by telegraph at station Dauphin #316 or the Dept of Agriculture by CABLE: UTONIC or by BT&T Harrisburg Long Distance Operator to CARACAS 5-2368, charges reversed.

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A List of My Favorite Movies Mark I: Comedies – Una lista de mis películas favoritas Marca I: comedias

We sat on the cold hill above the University.

“No-one knows what I’m talking about Hiroyuki. I’m too old. When I talked about a movie I liked when I was a kid it’s like someone taking to me about a Silent film from like 1923. Like oh did you see that ‘Nosferatu’? It was awesome! How about that Clara Bow? 23 Skidoo!”

Hiroyuki kept looking out over the panorama. It was cloudy and cold. She put her leg on my leg.

“Listen, old man. Why does my leg feel so good when it’s on your leg and so bad when your shit-covered leg is on my leg? Also there Quetflix, Quoutube, we can see all the movies from every generation. So like if we got married, when I am your age, you’ll be like a billion years old.”

Nos sentamos en la colina fría sobre la Universidad.

Nadie sabe lo que estoy hablando de Hiroyuki. Soy demasiado viejo. Cuando hablé acerca de una película que me gustó cuando era un niño es como alguien hablando a mí una película muda de como 1923. ¿Como viste que ‘Nosferatu’? ¡Fue impresionante! ¿Por qué esa Clara Bow? 23 Skidoo!

Hiroyuki mantuvo mirando el panorama. Estaba nublado y frío. Ella puso su pierna en mi pierna.

Oye, viejo. ¿Por qué mi pierna siente tan bueno cuando es en la pierna y tan mal cuando su pierna cubierta de mierda está mi pierna? También hay Quetflix, Quoutube, podemos ver todas las películas de cada generación. Así como si nos casamos, cuando estoy a su edad, usted será como 1 billón años.


The Hill Above the University or a Stock Photo of Richland Washington State

“Listen if I gave you a list of my favorite movies would you ever even have heard of them? And why can’t you find a guy your own age?”

“Because it’s just too heavy, too real, too complicated. You, you’ll be dead soon so who cares? Go ahead old, wise one. You shit-covered diaper-wearing Yoda.”

¿”Escuchas-mi, si te di una lista de mis películas favoritas siquiera hubiera oído hablar de ellos? Y ¿por qué no puede usted encontrar un chico de su propia edad?  “

“Porque es demasiado pesado, demasiado real, demasiado complicado. ¿Usted, usted estará muerto pronto así que a quién le importa? Vaya por delante un viejo, sabio. Mierda cubierto usar pañal Yoda.”


My rules, because these are different genres (Pronounced J’aaaaaaaaaaaaaah).
No Animation.
No Westerns.
No Sports Films.
No War Movies.
No Cop Movies.

These will be in another diatribe later.


Mis reglas, ya que estos son géneros diferentes (pronunciado J’aaaaaaaaaaaaaah).

No hay animación.
No hay películas de Vaqueros.
No hay películas de deportes.
No hay películas de guerra.
No hay películas de policía.

Estos serán en otra diatriba más adelante.

To all Critics who say disdainfully: ‘It’s just a travel movie!’ {CENSORED, PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE} So there!

A todos los críticos que dicen despectivamente: ‘Es sólo una película de viajes’! {CENSORED, PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE} 

Example: Chuck Berry’s “Promised Land”: ‘Ooh I’m a pretentious little man-twat-critic! Ooh it’s a travel song! Hence no good!’ Response: “WRONG! FALSE! INCORRECT! {CENSORED, PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE}

Ejemplo: Tierra de prometida de Chuck Berry: Ooh soy hombre-coño-crítico poco pretencioso! ¡Ooh es una canción de viaje! ¡Por lo tanto no es buena! Respuesta: “WRONG! ¡FALSO! ¡INCORRECTO! {CENSORED, PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE}

To anyone who doesn’t agree with this list, it’s my list, so shut up, or send in your recommendations. If a film isn’t on here, it’s because I think it{CENSORED, PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE} or I forgot it. A list of films that I hate will appear later.

A quien no está de acuerdo con esta lista, es mi lista, así que callar, o enviar sus recomendaciones. Si una película no es de aquí, es porque creo que {CENSORED, PA DEPT OF AGRICULTURE} o me olvidé. Más adelante aparecerá una lista de películas que odio.

Ace Ventura
Addams Family
Animal House
Austin Powers – Goldmember
The Adventures of Baron von Munchausen
Doc Hollywood
Four Rooms
Grand Budapest Hotel
The Groove Tube
Gung Ho
History of the World, Part I
Harry and the Hendersons
Horse Feathers
I Served the King of England
In Like Flynn
It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World
Johnny Dangerously
Kentucky Fried Movie
Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Men in Tights
Monkey Business
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
Office Space
Our Man Flynn
Robin Hood: Men in Tights
Silver Streak
Sleeper (But I hate Woody Allen)
Spies Like us
Stir Crazy
The 12 Chairs
The Mouse that Roared
The President’s Analyst
The Producers (The Original, not the shit-covered remake)
The Russians are Coming
Wanye’s World
What’s up Doc? (But I hate Barbara Stressiand)
Who’s Minding the Mint?
Young Einstein

“I’ve seen almost all of them. You idiot” Said Hiroyuki.

Peace be the Botendaddy

He visto casi todos ellos, dijo Hiroyuki.

Que la paz sea el Botendaddy

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Doxxing, Brigading, Spoofing and Sh!tlording Mark II: A Weak Indoor Run

I was joined by the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady.

I was trying to do research in my office. She just wanted to hang out. So I f@&ked her. There, I said it. I f&$ked her.

Then it was time to get lunch and go for a run.

We stopped down at an unknown location depicted below. I had the Blueberry Salad.


The Conflict Kitchen. I was there incognito at High Noon but no-one identified me.

We hung out for a while at the Bolean Nationality Classroom. Some Boleans came through on the tour. Aliens occasionally land their spaceships on the Cathedral lawn, visit the Bolean Classroom then get an O dog and fries then pay homage to the Pitt Panther. Outer space aliens only attend three schools in the country: UNM Area 51 Extension Campus, U Mass Miskatonic and Pitt. The out of Galaxy tuition is waved in exchange for unlimited power units and giant bricks of Platinum and rare earth metals.


Alien Artifacts in the Bolean Nationality Classroom, Photo Courtesy of mr_t_77

One of the Bolean teenagers leaned in to me and spoke directly to my mind with his blue antennae: “U f@&ked her good, didn’t you Earth man? Good work, eh?”

We went up to the track. I had lost so much weight they didn’t recognize me from my ID. I was banned from the locker rooms as well.


The Indoor Track

I started OK, but I had a slight groin pull. We ran slowish. 9:50 after one mile, eight laps. I switched my ID from leg to right pocket after every lap. 21:28 two miles. 35:50 three miles. It was lame. Four miles 47:50 32 laps, 1/8 mile each.

Sometimes we came around the blind curve and there would be volleyball players, people kicking soccer balls, wrestlers professors all in a high-speed oval vignette. Solution: GET THE F&$K OFF THE TRACK! Horrible. I was still 3 miles behind for the month to make my yearly mileage.

“We can’t run here anymore you Obeast, Lardvaark, Hamplanet, Grease-goblin, Deathfat. Go change your enormous bowel-movement-filled adult diaper and F@&k me behind the bleachers you idiot.”

“Nutmeg Dark Chocolate Mocha?”

Peace be the Botendaddy



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